Only Fools Fall in Love
by ironyismylife
Summary: Spencer Carlin has the ideal life. She's rich, smart, and has popular friends. Spencer Carlin is no fool. She knows she's living the high school dream. If she's such a genius, then why does she become such a stuttering mess when Ashley Davies is around?
1. Chapter 1

Only Fools Fall in Love

After years of reading fanfiction, I decided to finally write one. Spencer and Ashley may seem a bit out of character, but I guess that's what an AU is all about.

Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere. I got over it, and so can you.

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**Chapter 1**

I couldn't believe it. Summer vacation was at an end. I wasn't even returning to a familiar school. No, the place where I'd spent three long years achieving my boring reputation of "smart, quiet, rich girl" was far away. My senior year would be spent at the illustrious King High. It was in the bustling metropolis of Los Angeles. How the Hell am I going to fit in? Small-town Ohio isn't exactly similar to L.A.

I pulled up to the school in my consolation prize for moving. My parents felt sorry for me, so they bought me a brand new metallic red Corvette convertible; one of the perks of having parents with money. The brick walls looked like they had seen their share of years. There were spots where graffiti obviously used to adorn the walls with pride, but were avidly scrubbed off by a janitor. Gross.

Why am I here again? Oh yeah, that's right. My mom got a job as head ER surgeon at the newest hospital in Los Angeles. L.A. Coastal Hospital will be paying her God-knows-what a year to operate on whoever gets thrown her way. What do you get when you cross a surgeon and an incredibly successful self-help book author? You get one Spencer Carlin. That's me. You also get a Glen Carlin, but he doesn't really count. He's a year older than me, and he's at Ohio State. He's playing basketball and hoping to get into the NBA. He might be a total meathead and kind of a jerk, but he's certainly talented at sports, and I love him. He's still a navy blue in a box of crayons. Let's just say that I inherited 90 percent of the family brain cells. Clay is smart, too. Like… neon yellow smart. Smarter than I am, actually, but he's not blood-related. We adopted him when he was eight. He's following in Mom's footsteps and studying pre-med at Yale.

I look at my schedule. First period, AP Statistics. Second period, AP European History. Third period, AP Spanish 5. Then I had a much needed break for lunch, thank God. With this schedule I'd need more breaks than that. Fourth period, AP Biology. Fifth period, AP English Literature. Sixth period, AP Physics. Seventh period, Music. Wait, what? What the Hell is this all about? I'm supposed to have AP Calculus BC. I guess it's true when they say to be careful what you wish for. I wished for an extra break, and I got stuck in music class.

Are they going to make me play an instrument? I hope not. Last time I played an instrument was in middle school music class. I was 13, and the only thing I could play was the crash cymbals. The teacher used to stop the class and make them all turn around to watch me. _Crash_! I'd see nothing but my blonde hair blowing in my face and hear nothing but my classmates' laughter. I thought it meant they liked me, but now I realize that I probably just looked stupid.

A worse thought just entered my head. What if they make me sing? That's worse than the damn crash cymbals! Me singing sounds like a drunken moose-cat hybrid with laryngitis. I'm totally not kidding either. I can't even belt out the happy birthday song. It's terrible. When I was 10, I was singing happy birthday to Glen with the rest of my family. Psychograndma, my mom's mom, gave me one of her crazy looks and told me to mouth the words if I couldn't sing like a proper little lady. I proceeded to tell her to stop spending so much money on perfume if she still ended up smelling like she bathed herself in dirty toilet water. I was _so_ grounded. Glen was delighted, of course. Happy birthday, big brother.

Once I reminisced on my lovely musical past, I found a parking spot far away from anyone else. No one needs to be denting up my new baby with their crappy old beater. As the top of my convertible was being put up, another car had the nerve to pull up right next to mine. It was some crappy Honda from the 1980s. Don't get me wrong, I like Honda cars. They're good and reliable and all that. But seriously, this car could have been considered vintage if it was better taken care of. Besides, it was black, and probably had no AC. Smart move right there. Oh, and good luck seeing through those tinted windows, genius.

"Ah, shit." I cursed under my breath, pointlessly glaring at the other driver through my Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses. Why yes, they are real.

My car door slammed shut the same time as the black Honda's. The Corvette's door closed with a smooth 'shwoop.' The other car sounded rickety as the door hit the frame. I locked my car the second the door closed.

"What? Does my piece of shit car worry you?" A girl smirked at me. She had beautiful, wavy brown hair with long side-swept bangs dyed red. She was about two inches shorter than me; I'd guess about 5'3". The girl had a nice tan, too. And those brown eyes… Damn, I was impressed. She kept her gaze on me as she manually locked her car.

"Uh, n-no," I managed to stutter out. "Anything within ten feet of this car worries me," I said, gesturing to my Corvette for emphasis. I had to get away before I said something stupid and snobby.

She chuckled, obviously not believing me. "Yeah, well, I can't say I blame you." She looked back at my car. "I'd be paranoid too if I had a ride like that."

"Uh… Yeah." I must sound so intelligent today. She laughed again. Seriously, is "uh yeah" the best response I could come up with? Yes, yes it is. I gave her a final deer-in-headlights glance before swiftly turning on my heels to walk towards first period.

Statistics. Finally something I feel smart at today. Granted, it's been less than an hour since I got to school, but I already feel like an ass. At least I'm a smartass instead of a dumbass now that I'm in math class. Wow, that rhymed pretty well. I'm a poet and I didn't even know it. God, now I'm just a loser.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, I have this story uploaded for one night, and I already have reviews!? I've got to admit, I'm quite flattered. So flattered, in fact, that I'm going to post this next chapter already. There will be a longer wait for chapter three, but I'll try to force myself to sit down and write it tonight or tomorrow. Thank you so much for all the feedback, and let me know if there is anything I can do to improve my writing style!

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own South of Nowhere.

**Chapter 2**

My first three periods went by pretty quickly. It was just the usual syllabus being handed out and welcome to class speech. I could tell my teachers weren't too thrilled to see summer end, either.

I was starving by the time lunch rolled around. Too bad I have no friends here to sit with. I didn't really have friends back home, per se. They loved my house and my car, though. I like to think my shiny new red Corvette is better than my old pearl Solara convertible. What is it with me and metallic convertibles? Plus the fact that my brother was popular made me a shoe-in for someone to let hang around. They even let me make the cheerleading squad that my mom forced me to try out for. Lucky me. I got thrown in the air, which was fun. I can't say that I had much school spirit, though. What was my old mascot again? I don't even remember... or care. If anyone asks I'll just tell them it was Jenkins the zombie chinchilla.

As I walked into the cafeteria, looking about as awkward as possible, I heard a commanding voice call out.

"Hey, new girl! Come sit with us." I looked around bewildered, then turned back to the source of the voice. It was a pretty Latina wearing all of the latest trends with a hand on her hip and a look in her eyes telling me that I was being told, not asked. "Yeah, you, chica." She motioned me to her table, filled with girls who looked like wannabe clones and guys that my brother would probably be friends with.

"Thanks." I forced a smile. I'll take what friends I can get. "I'm Spencer."

"Madison." I took an open seat between her and a skinny guy with brown hair who was ogling me. Ew. Eyes and boobs are in two very different places. "That's Patrick," she pointed to skinny perv, "and this is Aiden, my boyfriend."

Tall, buff, dark hair, probably slept with 50 girls? Check, check, check, and check. He most certainly is Madison's boyfriend.

"Hey," I said. "So what classes do you guys have?" Oh small talk… We have a love hate relationship.

"I saw you in math class this morning," Patrick said. That didn't sound creepy at all… Creeper. "We should study together."

"Yeah, that'd be great." Somehow I always seem to say the opposite of what I'm thinking.

It turns out that I have math, physics, and biology with Patrick, Spanish with Madison, history with Aiden, and English with both Madison and Aiden.

"Girl you have to take us all for a ride in your car. That thing is hot!" Madison said. I knew there was a reason she called me over.

As I was making wonderful small talk with Madison and her friends, the girl from the parking lot was going through the lunch line getting her food. After seeing the slop school cafeterias serve, I'm reminded of why I bring my lunch. She apathetically passed through the line, and didn't even pay for her food. She must be one of those free lunch people. Hey, it sure doesn't mean she can't have a nice ass! God, Spencer. Who's the creeper now?

"That's Ashley," Madison gestured to the beautiful brunette I was blatantly staring at. "That girl's a freak. She can't even dress herself."

Ashley looked fine to me. She was wearing a cameo miniskirt with a small chain on it and a black band t-shirt. Yep, she definitely looked fine to me. At least Madison thought I was giving the "what a weirdo" stare instead of the "I'm intrigued" stare. Probably because Ashley wasn't wearing what our table was, name brand polos of different colors and animal emblems. Mine was light blue with a pink moose. I'm so stylin', I know.

"Why's she such a freak?" I asked.

"You don't want to get her started," Aiden laughed. "That girl's a total basket case."

"I agree. She needs to be sent to a special freak school," said Sherri, one of Madison's clones.

Ashley looked at our table and rolled her eyes. She left the cafeteria, lunch tray in hand. I felt sorry for her. I have no idea what she did to piss these people off, but she doesn't seem like some sort of blood-sucking demon with no soul. She might act a little off, but that's no reason to torment the poor girl. Maybe I'm just biased because I think she's hot. That's probably it.

Did I mention I like girls? No? Well, it's not like I make it public. My mom would disown me and send me to one of her doctor friends to be fixed, and my dad would probably just write a book about it. I don't think he'd have a problem with it, though. Clay would treat me the same. Glen would probably be a bit freaked out. Understatement much? Yes.

I realized it in the middle of sophomore year. I didn't like anyone in particular. I just started noticing girls the same way my friends were noticing guys. My boyfriends bored me, and kissing them grossed me out. Too much tongue. I won't lie. I kept a travel-size bottle of mouthwash in my purse for dates. I want a kiss that I can enjoy instead of feeling violated. Don't get me wrong, I like guys, I really do. I had a ton of buddies back in Ohio. I just don't like them like _that_. That's why I never let my boyfriends do more than kiss me. That's also probably why they didn't care too much when I dumped them and set them up with one of my sluttier friends. I love playing matchmaker. It makes me seem like a good person, when in reality, I'm just getting guys who like me to stop liking me so I don't seem suspicious. Now I sound paranoid. I'm just a bundle of great qualities, aren't I?

Finally, the bell sounded, effectively ending lunch. Students poured out of the cafeteria, trying to get to their next class on time to see which friends they shared it with. I had good ol' Patrick to accompany me.

"So, Spencer, do you play any sports?" I'm sure he did and wanted to brag about it. Oh well, I might as well let him.

"I did at my old school. I was a cheerleader." He looked impressed.

"You should ask Madison to put you on the squad here at King. I'm sure she'd say yes!" He flashed me a smile, trying to charm me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it. I might want to concentrate on my grades and colleges this year, though." I was done thinking. No thanks.

"Your choice," he shrugged. "I run cross country. Our team is the best in the state!" I feigned an astonished look and told him how great that was in order to make him feel better about himself and his doubtlessly small junk that he's trying to compensate for.

When we reached the biology classroom, an old man with thick glasses and Einstein hair told us to find our assigned seats. They were on opposite sides of the room. Bye-bye Patrick.

Biology was boring. I got another syllabus and a lullaby in the form of Mr. Finkle's voice. That has to be the best name for a science teacher in the history of the world. Once the bell rang, I rushed out of the room. My English class was on the other side of King High's massive campus.

I ended up making it to English just in time. I was rather impressed with myself. I may have gotten lost a couple of times, but I made it within five minutes. Throw me a damn party. Regardless of my school-traversing aptitude, I was the last one in class.

The desks in Mrs. Riddle's English class were set up in columns of pairs. Aiden and Madison were sitting next to each other, of course. There was no Patrick in this class to sit next to me. Lo and behold, the only desk left open was next to none other than Ashley. I think school just got a lot more interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about this one taking a couple extra days to write. I had writer's block for the first couple of nights, then I was just plain busy. Tonight I bit the bullet and forced myself to sit down and write this one... at midnight. Hooray for late-night half-delirious writing! Let me know if there are any grammatical errors, and I'll fix them when I'm feeling more... awake. I'll go ahead and give you all a heads up on a temporary hiatus. On July 12th, I'll be leaving for 3 weeks. I don't think that I'll be able to use the internet where I'm going, so that means no updates until August. Sorry about that, but life happens!

I still don't own South of Nowhere. If I ever do, I'll let you know.

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**Chapter 3**

I felt Madison and Aiden's eyes on me as I walked to my seat next to Ashley. I saw Madison mouth "I'm sorry," and Aiden looked guilty and slumped in his seat. Ashley glanced at me and rolled her eyes. She had beautiful eyes. I just wish she'd direct them towards me again so that I could get another look.

"Sorry about them," I said quietly.

"Whatever. I don't care," she tersely spat out.

She didn't even look at me. Ashley dear, turn your head a few degrees to the left! Do I smell bad or something? That can't be it. I wear deodorant. Maybe it's my perfume. Ugh, I'll change it if I have to, even though I love my Hollister scent. First, I think I'll try again. I really like my perfume.

"Seriously, I'm sorry about them." I gave her my best sheepish-yet-charming smile.

"And seriously, I don't give a shit. So stop talking to me." Once again, she didn't even turn her head.

My ego just deflated. Big time. I don't think I'll ever have the confidence to drive my Corvette around again! Okay, I wouldn't go that far, but wow. She totally just denied conversation with a chick who drives a new Corvette. Now I am very, _very_ interested.

The bell signaling the beginning of class rang, and the teacher walked into the room. She looked like she was in her mid-forties and was a total doppelganger of Rachel Ray. I checked my schedule again to make sure I had the right room and class. Nope, room 352 is not the cooking lab.

"Mrs. Riddle, I've got to get to class. Can you give me the syllabus and required reading list now?" Ashley asked.

What is she talking about? We're in class right now!

"Sure, Ashley. Tell your sister I hope she feels better. When will she be well again?"

"I don't know. Sorry," Ashley mumbled, glancing down at her feet.

"It's alright. Kyla sure does get sick a lot," Mrs. Riddle motioned Ashley to her desk and handed her a syllabus and a reading list. "Here, let me write you a pass…" She scribbled on a sticky note.

Ashley attached the note to her new stack of paper. "Thanks." Then she grabbed her backpack and left the room without giving me a second glance.

Now I was left alone with my thoughts in English class. Madison and Aiden were too preoccupied with each other to look at me again. To be honest, I was glad.

Mrs. Riddle droned on about the wonderful world of literature that we would be exploring this year. It was the usual slew of books people had to read for English class. I've already read most of these. I even liked some of them. As long as there's no Great Expectations, I think I'll be okay. I swear, that has to be the most boring book in existence. I was supposed to read it freshman year. I read the first three pages, said screw it, and looked up the chapter summaries online. The test ended up being completely on quotes, and somehow I got a 98%. I've always been proud of my ability to write my way out of anything.

My favorite work that I've read for English is Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. I guess it's because I admire the character Brutus so much. He does what he thinks is right, regardless of the consequences. He betrays someone he loves, but he does it for the greater good. I've always found people who do the wrong thing for the right reason fascinating. Are they heroes, villains, or simply victims of circumstance?

I tuned back into Mrs. Riddle's welcome speech.

"At the end of the year, you are all required to turn in a twenty page paper that will count as your final exam grade." The class groaned. "It can be anything: a biography, a persuasive essay, or an analysis, for example. Your only requirements are that your paper must be nonfiction and have a thesis. Cite your resources correctly. If you don't give citations, you are plagiarizing, and I will give you a zero!" Careful everyone, if we're caught plagiarizing, she'll give us to her twin so she can fry us up and give us to her secret pet man-eating trolls for dinner! The secret's in the sauce.

The bad news is that I have to write a gargantuan paper. The good news is that I already have my thesis. Not to mention, writing is my strong point.

Mrs. Riddle started to repeat herself, so I zoned out again. My thoughts turned to Ashley. She wasn't angry with me this morning. She seemed more along the lines of sarcastic and amused. Did I do something to piss her off? I looked over at Madison and Aiden. Ohhhh… of course I did. Eating lunch at the same table as queen bitch Madison, with her unnaturally large ass, and Aiden, king of stereotypical jocks, probably doesn't make me seem like a nice person. Yep, I can't say I blame Ashley. I bet Madison and the bitch brigade have given her a lot of crap.

The bell broke me from my thoughts and sent me packing for physics. A nice thought just occurred to me. I don't have any more classes with Aiden or Madison today! My smile fell as I remembered that Patrick had physics next period, too.

Sure enough, our crotchety old dinosaurs-read-history-books-about-this-woman physics teacher, Dr. Belleview, let students choose their own seats. Sweet, lovely Patrick saved me a seat. Yes, that was total sarcasm, and I want to gag myself. Now I get to listen to him brag some more. Awesome.

"Hey Spencer," he waved, flagging me down. "I saved you a seat!" He was so excited, like a little puppy dog.

"Thanks Patrick," I smiled at him. Why is it that I can never say what I really mean? My thoughts and words can't possibly belong to the same person.

"You're lucky you're sitting next to me," he said.

Wow, is he kidding? I looked at Patrick, checking for any signs of sarcasm. Nope, this guy is completely serious. What a pompous pervert. I bet he thinks I've forgotten about his little problem remembering where my eyes were. I haven't. I think he's having that problem again right now. Could he at least be a little more discrete about it? He keeps looking me up and down. It's getting distracting. My boobs will still be there the next time you look down, I promise.

"Why am I lucky?" Ugh, I disgust myself with my fake enthusiasm.

"Dr. Belleview plays favorites, and she loves us athletic guys. Good thing I run on our cross country team. We're the best in the state!" Yes, Patrick, you've told me this already. He looked so proud. He reminded me of a little boy who only wet his brand new Superman big boy underwear "just a little." Or so he claimed. I'll never let Glen live that one down.

"That helps me how?" I asked. "I'm athletic, but last time I checked, I wasn't a guy."

"She likes the girls we hang around with, too." Patrick winked at me. He just has all the smooth answers, doesn't he? Does he seriously think I'll date him just because our old bat physics teacher will like me more? I'd better not answer that.

"Well aren't I lucky?" I halfway hoped that he'd catch the sarcasm. He didn't.

"Hopefully, you'll be even luckier in the future," he winked again and smirked at me. Wow. No thank you, Patrick. Even if I did like guys, you're a total egotistical creeper.

"Maybe," I said. Brain to mouth, come in mouth! This is Spencer telling you to shut the hell up and stop saying things you don't mean!

I was saved by the bell when it finally rang after what felt like an eternity.

"Shut your yaps and listen to me!" shouted Dr. Belleview. Say it again, lady, I don't think they heard you in Wisconsin! Someone get this poor woman a hearing aid.

Dr. Belleview spent the rest of the class period yelling the reasons why physics was an important class to take and how it will be tough but fulfilling, blah blah blah. I was just happy that Patrick couldn't talk to me anymore in fear of Tyrannosaurus Belleview coming after him with her razor sharp dentures and her deadly acrylic glue-on claws.

When the bell rang ending physics, I gathered my papers into my backpack and left as soon as possible. Patrick looked up, and I was gone. Good thing our next classes were on opposite sides of campus. He was headed to Latin, and I was on the way to my final class of the day: music.

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The first day of school is almost over! Hopefully, I can write like the wind and get some more of the introductory chapters written before I leave for 3 weeks. Yeah, you heard me, introductory. The real plot will rear it's ugly head soon enough, so enjoy this average Spashley romantic-comedy feeling while it lasts!


	4. Chapter 4

I am soooooo sorry about the wait. I won't lie to you, I had total writer's block before I left for my trip. Here's my problem: I know points A, B, M, T, and Z, but I don't quite know what comes in between. So, usually when you say "I can't wait to see what happens next!" I'm thinking the same thing. XD

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**Chapter 4**

After another long trek through King High, I finally reached my last class of the day. It looked innocent enough, but then again so does South Park. I can't be the only one who watched it in elementary school thinking it was a kid's show just because it was a cartoon.

I have a suspicion that music class won't be as boring as I thought it would be. I glanced into the classroom. My suspicion was confirmed. Ashley's here, but she hasn't seen me yet.

The music teacher, Mrs. Crenshaw, was an eccentric lady who looked like she was in her thirties. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore an outfit that looked like it used every crayon in the 64 pack Crayola box. The one that had the sharpener inside the box. I didn't figure out it was a sharpener until I was about ten. Yeah, I missed out, I know.

Once the bell rang, Mrs. Crayola… I mean Crenshaw, said, "Okay everyone, I've assigned you partners in alphabetical order." The class groaned unenthusiastically. "Get over it!" she snapped. "As I was saying, each of you will have a partner who works with you. They probably won't be at the same level as you, so each of you will get an individual assignment to complete by the end of the year. This class is all about improvement. For those of you who are only taking this class because an arts class is a requirement," she looked directly at me, "don't be too scared. Now, let me read off your partners."

Lacy Adams and Rodney Banes got called up to the front. Lacy looked like your average Taylor Swift fan kind of girl. She wore conservative clothes and had Jonas Brothers stickers all over her music binder. Rodney was definitely a classic rock guy. He wore an AC/DC shirt with baggy jeans that had enough pockets serve as a sock drawer.

"Lacy what is your goal this year?" asked Mrs. Crensh…screw it… asked Mrs. Crayola.

"I really want to be able to sing the whole Taylor Swift album." I smirked; called it!

"And what about you Rodney?"

"I want to get better at my chord progressions on guitar. They're kind of sloppy."

"Great goals, both of you. Next we have Spencer Carlin and," I gulped in anticipation, "Ashley Davies."

My eyes widened in panic. I glanced at her, frightened by her possible reaction. Shit, she did _not_ look happy. She glared at me on her path all the way to the front of the room.

"Uh, sorry," I said. Sounds like my stupid came back. "Mrs. Crenshaw, I don't have any musical experience. I mean, I played crash cymbals, but I really don't think they count."

"C'mon, you seriously can't partner me up with her. Can you put me with someone with more experience?" She gestured towards me, "This is ridiculous."

Crayola lady's eyes lit up. This can't be good.

"Ashley, I have your assignment for the year. Since you're such a master at everything musical, why don't you teach Ms. Carlin here the basics of piano and guitar?" Ashley looked appalled. "Do you sing, Spencer?"

"No," I shook my head rapidly.

"Well, you got out of that one, Ms. Davies. If she could sing, you'd have to help her with that, too." My, my, Mrs. Crayola, you're quite the sassy pink today.

"Mrs. Crenshaw—"Ashley started.

"Ashley, you're better than I am at piano, guitar, and singing. There's nothing more I can teach you, unless you want to take up trombone."

Ashley made a repulsed face. "No thanks."

"Great, now I suggest you get started teaching Spencer guitar and piano. Each week you'll get new songs and scales to work on. Now get to work," she turned to me. "Good luck Ms. Carlin."

"Thanks. I think I'll be alright. I'm a quick learner." I had to salvage my dignity somehow, didn't I? No more nervous one-word statements from me!

"I meant with that one," she pointed at Ashley. "Don't go too hard on her. It'll hurt your grade." She shooed us to the piano and went back to naming off class partners.

Ashley grabbed her guitar on the way to the piano. It was a light brown acoustic with zig-zag patterns along the neck. She had good taste, I had to admit. She rolled her eyes at me and sat down on the piano bench.

"I'm really not in the mood to teach you today. So do you just want to hear what a real musician can do?" I don't think she was asking.

"Uh, sure." Ugh, back to two word nervous answers.

"Okay," she nodded. "I'm just going to improv, so don't get too excited." And with that she started to play.

She wasn't even playing a song. Not even scales. She was just messing around on the piano, but I could tell she was incredibly talented. The notes flowed together so naturally, I felt like I was witnessing a masterpiece in composition.

I don't know if it's the lighting, or maybe it's just her, but my mouth went dry at the sight before my eyes. Ashley was playing the piano, her tan hands gracing its ivory keys. Her guitar leaned against the ebony piano bench. She looked like a painting. If I had any artistic ability whatsoever, I would paint the scene in front of me. Ashley Davies could upstage Mona Lisa any day.

Something was wrong with the perfect painting, though. Ashley's wrists were darker than the rest of her arms. Looking closer, I noticed a shape to the darkness. It looked like someone had grabbed her wrist and tried to pop her hands off by squeezing. Bruises. I also noticed a couple of fading scars on her wrist. What the hell? My eyes softened as I watched her play. There's got to be a story in there, and I have a feeling it's not a happy one. I was broken out of my reverie as Ashley's song ended.

"That was… great," I managed to stutter out.

"Thanks," she looked to the side and brushed a curl of hair out of her eyes. I could tell that she's not used to compliments.

"Yes Ms. Davies, that was wonderful, but it's your turn to teach for a change." That crayon woman came out of nowhere! Is she a ninja or something? A musical ninja running around in a bright, colorful outfit… I'd love to see that!

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "C'mon, Carlin, let's get started."

"Okay." I'm still trying to find my words. Maybe they're on vacation. I hope they have a good time in the Caribbean. Those lazy bastards should at least send me a postcard. And it better be pretty!

"Alright, today I'm going to show you where the notes are and the basic hand placement," she raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you know where middle C is?"

"Uh, no," I answered quietly.

She groaned in frustration. "You've got to be kidding me. It's right," she pointed to a note in the center of the piano, "here."

"Okay," I tapped the note with my index finger.

"That's the note where you put your thumbs," she told me. I can tell she's annoyed.

I readjusted my hands so that both thumbs were on this middle C note. Why can't the keys be lettered? Middle C should be required to have a flashing neon sign over it that says "Middle C here."

"I'm going to teach you a super easy song. Don't laugh." She started to play a three note rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

I'm not going to lie. I had to suppress a giggle or two. I'd only known her for a day, but the notion of Ashley Davies playing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the piano was amusing to me.

"Here," she said. "Play it on the middle C octave, and I'll play on the octave above you."

My fingers heavily dropped on the keys, but I was able to master the song within a quick five minutes. I just made Mary my bitch.

"Well, Spencer, you just made Mary your bitch," Ashley smirked. Exactly, Ashley. Exactly.

"I guess I did," I smiled, my head tilting slightly to the left. Four words! Four whole words!

Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second, and the bell rang. We both jumped at the sudden sound, and I looked away, a blush painting my cheeks.

"See you tomorrow, Carlin. I've got to go to my locker," she got up and started walking away. "Oh," she turned around to face me, "and I'll try not to beat up your car."

I gave her a mock glare. "Thanks. Bye Ashley."

Is it just me, or was she just being… nice?

I went to my locker and then power walked to the parking lot, hoping Ashley's car was still there. I wanted to thank her for agreeing, however reluctantly, to teach me in music class. Damn, her car was gone. I guess I'll just have to thank her tomorrow. I put down the top on my Corvette and drove away from school getting lots of jealous and annoyed looks as I blasted "Poker Face" for the world to hear. After an eventful first day of school, I was finally on my way home.

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I'm starting to drop hints at the change in tone. Pick up on it, people! Next chapter Spencer goes home, and after that, I'm thinking of skipping ahead in time a couple weeks or months.

Let me know what you think and anything I can improve on!


	5. Chapter 5

Words cannot express how much I hate this chapter. I'm _so_ sorry for the delay. This chapter is a necessary evil of introduction to Spencer's home life, but I think it's the last introductory chapter. The real plot starts next chapter. Honestly, I'm kind of ashamed of this one, but I guess it's better than no chapter at all... Enjoy?

I don't own South of Nowhere, and this is the last disclaimer I'm going to do because they're annoying to do in every chapter.

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**Chapter 5**

The Carlin family mansion came into view as I drove past the gate blocking off our driveway. The fence surrounding the yard had a perimeter of trees to deter as many onlookers as possible. What can I say? Privacy is important.

I pull into the four car garage and turn off my Corvette. Silence. Emptiness. Welcome home, Spencer Carlin.

Dad's on a business trip giving motivation speeches to companies. He tells them how to be better employees and how to take advantage of the salaries they earn. Dad heavily encourages dabbling in the stock market to "increase profit for both employee and company" in his lectures. He's great and supports everyone. I just wish he was home more often…

Mom is gone and working late as always. We've lived here for a month, and already she's working extra late four days a week. She gets one off, and she always spends it sleeping or shopping. I hardly ever see her except for when I'm getting cereal at two in the morning and she's just getting home.

The silence is familiar, but not at all comforting. I'm used to it now that my brothers are gone, but my house used to be full of noise. It used to sound like a family lived inside.

I remember back when I was a kid, I'd ride home on the bus with Glen and Clay. We lived in a nice house. It wasn't particularly huge, but it felt more like a home than this house or the house we bought after Dad's advice book became a best seller. Our family was kind of unconventional. Mom was a surgeon at the ER and Dad stayed at home and wrote his book. My brothers and I would walk inside, and Glen would usually be picking on me, but Clay always defended me. Dad would just smile and tell us to get along. Then he'd usher us to the kitchen table and feed us a snack he prepared. My dad is an amazing cook!

It's funny. Kids are always in such a hurry to grow up. Funny thing is, once they grow up, they realize how easy they had it as kids. I don't know about adulthood, but being in high school is hard enough.

I walked lazily through the entryway and into the oversized kitchen. I'm not bragging or anything, but my house is a complete mansion. There are so many extra random rooms. Both of my parents have home offices, not that they ever use them. Their offices are pretty much just extra book space. There's a home theatre, a billiards room, an exercise room, a music room, and that's just the beginning… It's a big empty house considering the fact that I'm the only one who is here half of the time.

After eating a banana for a snack, I went outside to the backyard to throw the peel out for some animals. It may sound stupid, but hey, whenever I check back ten minutes later, the peel is gone.

I worked out in the exercise room, made myself a Boca burger for dinner, and played about three hours of Xbox 360 in the home theatre. I'm such a nerd. Oh well! Fable 2 in 1080p graphics had me drooling.

After showering and getting ready for bed, I laid down and thought about my first day at school. Madison, Aiden, and Patrick crossed my mind. It amazes me how people so different from me think that I'm like them. I won't allow myself to be pulled into their shallow little group. Hanging around with people like them was one of my biggest regrets in Ohio. I think it kept me from making true friends because people thought I was like the people I hung out with: catty, egotistical, and a complete and utter bitch.

The next morning I woke up to get ready for school. Mom was still asleep, and I sure wasn't going to wake up the beast. I drove to school and made it on time. There was no Ashley parked next to me today. After dealing with Madison and her goons, I made my way to lunch. It was another awkward meal, full of talking about petty things I didn't care about, I headed off to class. In English class, a girl filled the seat next to me. Kyla.

She was a pretty girl. Very short, but she bore a resemblance to Ashley, for sure.

"Hey, I'm Spencer." I stuck out my hand for her to shake. I decided to be rather professional since we were going to work together all year in class.

She turned to face me, and I spotted a bruise under her left eye. She obviously tried to cover it with makeup, but it had worn off.

"Kyla," she reached out and shook my hand. She's got a weak handshake. "Nice to meet you," she smiled weakly at me.

"You too," I said.

As we took out our pens to take notes, I noticed more bruises along Kyla's arm. Her wrist had the same finger shaped markings as Ashley's. I frowned, knowing what was going on. Things like that make me want to be some sort of super hero and save the day. Then again, I don't look that great in spandex.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked. "Your sister said you were sick yesterday," I tried not to sound doubtful when I said the word "sick." I'm sure I failed miserably as I glanced at the purple mark below her eye.

"Yeah, thanks," she looked away, avoiding eye contact. "I just had a really bad cold. I'm better now, though!"

"Good to hear."

"Stop talking and pay attention, please, Ms. Carlin!" Mrs. Riddle said.

She's such a party killer.

I kept my mouth shut for the rest of class. I've hardly talked all day.

I started to feel excited as I finally made my way to music class. I'd get to see Ashley and even work with her! I feel ridiculous, like some stupid middle school girl who got her first crush.

Ashley rolled her eyes as she saw me walk into the classroom.

"Hey, Carlin. Ready to work?" She gave me a sly smile.

"Ready as I'll ever be, Davies," I returned it.

She helped me work on the C scale on piano. By the time I finally got it right, the bell rang and school ended. Ashley quickly packed up her things to leave.

"What's the rush?" I asked.

"I've got to take my sister home."

"Oh, okay. Bye." I sound stupid again. Damn it.

"Yeah, bye," she gave me a funny look. Yep, I sounded like an idiot. Again. Damn!

I guess that was my life for the first couple months of school. I dealt with Madison and her friends throughout the day, I deflected Patrick's attempts to hit on me, Kyla and I made small talk, and I sounded like a fool in front of Ashley. Dad was always out on business, and Mom was never home even when she was in town.

Welcome to the life of Spencer Carlin.

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Once again, sorry if it sucked. The next one will be better, I promise. There's going to be a 2 month time skip, so you've been warned. It goes from late August to about a week before Halloween. Hopefully the next chapter will be written and up soon, but school and life can get in the way... I'll try my best!


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